Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
The next morning, as I finished my breakfast, Jackson came in from one of his epic runs.
“Hi,” I said. My eyes traveled over his huge legs and his messy wet hair. He looked delicious. I averted my eyes.
“Irene wants to go home today. She asked if I would drive her back, so she doesn’t have to take the train.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“Did you want to come for a drive?” he asked, his voice sounded casual.
“Uh,” I paused, knowing that I really should say no. “Sure.”
“Just going to shower, then we can go.”
Irene seemed bright and chipper when we picked her up from the hotel considering how late she and Matt had talked. Jackson followed close behind, carry her suitcase like it weighed no more than a cup of coffee. He made everything look easy .
“You and Matt must have had a good talk last night,” I said to her, as we walked to the truck.
She smiled. “Well, we chatted a bit on the way back to the hotel, but he said he had a big day today, so he didn’t want to come up.”
I stopped so short that Jackson ran into me from behind. It was kind of like being run over by a wall of muscle. Instead of knocking me over with his size, his arm snaked around my waist, and he lifted me up for two steps, carrying me with his momentum. I shuddered as his hard body pressed against my back.
“Sorry about that,” his lips pressed against my ear, all rough and low. His voice sounded amused.
A ripple of something crazy shot up my spine. “My fault.”
He held me a fraction longer than necessary and then released me as if nothing had happened. The entire experience left me breathless.
Irene chatted up a storm with Jackson.
Last night Matt had told me he had talked late into the night with his mom, but she just confirmed he had only dropped her off. Where had he gone? Was it weird that I had no real emotion about that? I mean, should that not bother me just a bit more than it did? I felt decidedly indifferent about the entire thing.
Had Matt gone and spent time with the same woman? Another thought that left me completely indifferent. I mentally chewed on my life, uncertain about how to proceed. What if he had needed to drive around and listen to music? He never had alone time. He was either at work or with me. I needed to stop jumping to conclusions and just trust him. We had both promised that we wanted to make this work. Now I needed to trust him and believe that he wanted a fresh start with me.
My ears perked up as I heard Irene start to grill Jackson.
“So how many years have you been in the military? ”
“I have been in the navy just over ten years.”
“You told Harry that you only wanted to join for a couple of years.”
Jackson didn’t respond.
“Harry always dreamed that you would follow in his footsteps and become a police officer.”
“I like being a soldier.”
She sighed. “Well, at some point you're going to have to get real about your career.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, what about marriage? Does your job lend itself to settling down?”
Silence.
“Are you dating anyone?”
The question dangled between them. I refrained from leaning forward to hear his response.
“Not at the moment.” His voice sounded terse.
“Now don’t be like that,” Irene lightly scolded. “You have to settle down at some point.”
Jackson rubbed the back of his neck.
“What about kids. Don’t you want a family?”
“Not going to happen.”
He might as well have turned around and stuck a 9-inch blade into my chest, his words cut so deep. Jackson wasn’t my boyfriend. I was engaged to his pseudo-brother. A hollowness carved out into my chest, but I couldn’t face the reason why.
“You just need to find yourself a nice girl.”
Jackson’s eyes glanced at me in the review mirror.
The conversation moved on, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had just heard. Jackson didn’t want a wife, and he didn’t want babies. Jackson and I were on two different paths, and we wanted very different things. This crush of mine was getting out of control, and if I weren’t careful, it would destroy everything I had worked to build with Matt. I needed to get my act together here and stop thinking about him in any capacity other than as a friend.
We dropped Irene off and found ourselves back on the road. I bounced my knee while sitting beside him. We were alone. For two hours. Who was I to Jackson? I was his future sister-in-law. Nothing more, nothing less. He was gentle and protective of me, and he made me feel good about myself when he was so encouraging, but that was where it ended. I vowed to refocus my energy on Matt and our wedding. I had to.
I looked out the window and didn’t even attempt to make conversation.
“You’re pretty quiet,” Jackson said.
“I guess,” I said. I glanced over at him. He casually held the steering wheel, his sunglasses pushing back through his messy hair.
The words poured out of my mouth before I could stop them, “Why don’t you want kids or marriage?”
He frowned.
“Is that too personal?”
He leaned forward to look at his side mirror, while he merged onto the highway. “My job complicates stuff.”
I needed to know. I just needed to hear his words. “Why?”
He shrugged. “We're gone a lot.”
I wanted to, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “Lots of relationships deal with separation.”
He glanced at me. “My job comes with a lot of uncertainty.”
“What does that mean?”
He threw me a smile and shrugged. Refusing to answer.
“Why are you so elusive about your job?”
“It’s just a job.”
I picked up my phone and typed in “navy seal” into Google. Hundreds of articles popped up. I scrolled through some of them .
I started to read off the screen. “It's almost impossible to become a Navy SEAL and only the most elite of the elite, actually make it through the training program. Then they spend over a year training in some of the harshest environments possible.”
He looked at my phone. “What are you doing?”
“I'm reading about your job. I want to know what you do.” I scrolled down through another article and began to read out loud. “Combat operations take place in some of the most dangerous locations in the world….Navy SEALs remain calm while fighting terrorists, criminals, pirates, all the while sleep deprived and mentally exhausted.”
I paused while my mind absorbed that. “You get into fights with terrorists?”
He rolled his shoulders. “Sometimes.”
I just stared at him. Taking in his stubble, his long hair, those immense shoulders. Trying to imagine him holding a gun and shooting it. Getting shot at. He glanced at me, his expression questioning.
I pulled my eyes away from him and started to read some more to him. “SEALs operate in the shadows, approaching life-threatening combative situations via helicopter, submarine, parachute, boat, on foot, or by swimming underwater. They are masters of complicated technology, weaponry, hydrographic surveys, and charts. They specialize in explosives, camouflage, or sniper skills. SEALs have stamina, patience, and put their lives on the line during every single mission without receiving the credit they deserve.”
Images flashed before my eyes of Jackson taking a running leap out of the back of some plane into a dark abyss. Scaling out of a helicopter. Coming out of the water with the weird fake grass on his head and green face paint while he approached enemies from behind with a knife. It was straight out of some Rambo movie, and it freaked me out.
I looked over at him. “Please tell me this isn’t your job. ”
He smiled one of his devastating smiles that made my heart flip. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“How dangerous are these missions that you do?”
Green eyes met mine. He said in a calm voice, “It’s not that bad.”
At that moment I knew it was probably much worse. “It says that you put your life on the line during every single mission.”
“We're trained to handle those kinds of situations.”
“Situations where people are constantly trying to kill you?”
“Emily, it's just a job. It has its challenges, but it's also rewarding.”
“Have you ever been shot at?”
“Once or twice.”
I covered my mouth with my hand and tossed my phone on the dash. I envisioned Matt getting a phone call and then turning to tell me that Jackson was dead. My chest ached so hard I was struggling to breathe. I looked out the window and forced myself to breathe slowly. Evenly.
“Emily.”
“You never told me,” I accused him. “You should have told me right from the start.”
“What difference would it have made?” he sounded baffled.
My arms waved in the air. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have let myself be your friend. That’s the difference. Now I am, and I feel sick about this.”
“So you wouldn’t have become my friend?”
“Exactly,” I shot back. “I would have protected myself.”
A strong hand reached over and grabbed my hand. “Don’t think about it.”
I inhaled a deep breath. “You should come with a warning label. Dangerous job. Might get killed and leave you. Don’t get too close.”
“Em,” he said. I tugged at my hand, but he refused to let go.
I looked out the window. “I guess I answered my question.”
“What’s that?”
“I can understand why women struggle with your job.”